


It's Ineffable

by ANTHONYCOWWLEY



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: 007, Bentley, Demon, Ducks, Gen, M/M, Magic, Miracle, Multi, Other, Picnic, Queen - Freeform, angel - Freeform, aziraphale tries to use a phone, devils dyke, dirty harry - Freeform, post - armageddidnt, post - armageddon, saint james park, tightening trousers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-23
Updated: 2020-04-27
Packaged: 2021-03-01 21:26:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,909
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23803825
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ANTHONYCOWWLEY/pseuds/ANTHONYCOWWLEY
Summary: After the whole Armageddon thing.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 9
Kudos: 19





	1. Good Old-Fashioned Lover Boy

Crowley was sneaking along the wall of a dark hall .... he was wearing a black fedora, a black suit with a fancy tie and black framed Wayfarer style sunglasses. He had a gun in hand, a Walther PPK pistol. He was the epitome of style, of class. He looked dangerous -- suave and dangerous. Anyone who saw him would think twice before attempting to have a go at him. 

  
Once he reached the end of the hall, Crowley heard a cry -- it was Aziraphale.

  
"Help! Help!" 

  
The demon pressed his back flat against the wall. He took a deep breath in preparation and then he rounded the corner.... 

  
He took in the scene before him. There was Aziraphale -- he was tied up to a chair, wearing a flowing white dress. He had long, curly white hair and bright pink lipstick. Uriel was on his left side, Sandalphon was on his right and Gabriel was standing in front of him. 

  
"My hero!" Aziraphale beamed, and Crowley tipped his hat. Gabriel turned around and Crowley pointed the gun at him. 

  
"Well, well, well. Look who decided to show," Gabriel said, wearing a fake smile, putting his hands behind his back as he slowly stepped closer. "We've been waiting for you, Double-O Serpent."

  
Sandalphon went up behind Aziraphale and pulled his head back by his hair while Uriel held a blade to his throat. Crowley wasted no time -- he shot Uriel in the back three times (Aziraphale yelled) and Sandalphon in the chest twice (Aziraphale screamed). Both collapsed. Aziraphale was breathing heavily -- he turned his head to look behind him, then looked down at Uriel who was lying dead at his feet. He looked up at Crowley, eyes wide and lips parted in shock. Then he smiled and fluttered his lashes and Crowley was caught off guard -- 

  
Gabriel ran forward with a blade of his own and sliced at Crowley's wrist -- the demon made a noise (Ooww!) and dropped the gun, shaking his hand and hissing. Gabriel kicked the gun out of reach, then went to stab Crowley, but Crowley quickly moved out of the way with his snake-like reflexes. He punched Gabriel in the face, sending the archangel back, then he took Gabriel's wrist in hand and twisted it until it cracked and he dropped the blade. Gabriel took a swing at him, but Crowley ducked and punched Gabriel in the stomach and then delivered an upper cut to his chin. Gabriel went flying back, hitting the floor, bleeding from his mouth. 

  
Crowley went over to his gun, took it back into his hand, and hovered over the archangel, pointing it at his face.

  
"Please ---" Gabriel pleaded, shielding his face with his hands.

  
"I know what you're thinking," Crowley started. "Did he fire six shots or only five? Well, to tell you the truth, in all this excitement, I kind of lost track myself. But being that this is a --" 

  
"Shoot him! Kill him!" Aziraphale yelped. Crowley whipped his head in Aziraphale's direction, then looked away in thought, shrugged, and shot Gabriel. 

  
"He should feel lucky -- went out with a bang," Crowley said, pulling his suit to the side so he could put the pistol back in its holster. He then made his way over to Aziraphale, who was smiling brightly -- his brows pinched together and forehead wrinkling. He looked completely enamoured. 

  
"You saved my life! I can't believe you found me! Oh, how incredibly clever you are! So cunning!" cried the angel.

  
Crowley began to undo the bonds, letting his fingertips brush over soft flesh.

  
"So.... tempting!" Aziraphale continued. "Truly remarkable!" 

  
Crowley finished untying the angel, then took his sunglasses off, revealing his golden eyes, and cleaned the lenses with a handkerchief.

  
"And so handsome! .... What should I call you?"

  
Crowley put the glasses back on. 

  
"Crowley. Anthony J Crowley."

  
And then Aziraphale jumped up from the chair, Crowley wrapped his arms around him, and they kissed passionately. 

  
"Crowley! Oh, Crowley! Crowley? ... Crowley?"

  
Wait, what was happening? Things were changing... they weren't kissing anymore. Aziraphale was fading away -- And Crowley, he was no longer upright, he was lying down -- Where was he? 

  
Ooh, was a dream. He was in bed. Was he still asleep? Must be. Aziraphale was still saying his name. Crowley reached beneath his silky black pyjama bottoms, feeling his hardness (he'd given himself the bits, and it was a good dream), and then -- 

  
"Crowley?"

  
Crowley's eyes shot open, he stopped moving his hand and quickly raised his head, straining his neck as he looked over at Aziraphale. 

  
Aziraphale was just standing there, in his bedroom, beside his bed. He was wringing his hands together. He raised a hand and waved at Crowley. He laughed, breathlessly, then lowered his hand. Looking from Crowley's face, to where his hand was beneath the sheet, and back to his face. He swallowed and flashed his teeth in a worried grin. 

  
"Ah... hello!" he greeted, then swallowed. Crowley couldn't stop staring. Was this really happening? This couldn't be happening. "Sorry to wake you, dear boy. I was just... uh... " 

  
"What the deuce are you doing here!" Crowley shouted and he quickly removed his hand, tossing the blanket aside and jumping off the bed, turning away from Aziraphale. He quickly snapped -- he went soft, his pyjamas turned into a black long sleeved shirt with his jeans and belt and shoes and watch, his bed was made, his hair was done. Leaving no evidence what so ever of what had just happened. 

  
"Oh! Well I --"

  
Crowley turned around, holding his hands out. 

  
"Haven't you heard of knocking? A phone call?? Something?? Anything!" He looked quite horrified. Aziraphale put his hands behind his back. 

  
"Yes, of course I've heard of knocking, I'm not an idiot," he replied, defensively. "And I'm quite familiar with phone calls, thank you," he added, raising a finger, before letting his hands fall to his sides. "Frankly, I'm beyond familiar -- I have been calling you every day for a fortnight!" 

  
Crowley's head jerked back.

  
"A fortnight? ..... Has it been that long?" Crowley asked, and he moved past Aziraphale and made his way to the office. 

  
"You didn't know?" 

Crowley looked at the ansaphone -- he had 12 voicemails. He hesitated a moment, glancing at Aziraphale. Well, then. Apparently, he'd slept for a fortnight. Last thing he remembered was having a nice meal, a glass of wine, and deciding to take a nap. He hadn't expected it to last two weeks. 

  
"It's been a rough eleven years," was Crowley's excuse. 

  
"That it has..... It's been no picnic, that's for certain," Aziraphale responded, looking worriedly at the ansaphone before looking back at Crowley, his eyes lighting up. "Speaking of! If I recall correctly... quite some time ago, I did offer."

  
"What?" asked Crowley, brows creasing in confusion.

"Why, to go for a picnic!" Aziraphale jumped a bit in excitement. 

  
"Ooh-- well," Crowley looked at his watch. It was just past noon. "We could go now, if you like."

  
Aziraphale smiled a smile that reached his eyes. 

  
"I would be delighted," he said, softly. 

  
Crowley smiled in return, nodded his head once, and then went to press the button on the ansaphone -- he was curious as to what Aziraphale had left him, but the angel stopped him before he could.

  
"Oh, you needn't listen to those messages--" he said, hurriedly. Crowley looked up at Aziraphale, letting his finger hover over the button, and arched a brow. 

  
"Why not?" he asked. 

  
"I, uh, it's just that I don't... see why you should have to. 12 messages, that would take some time, and... Why bother with it? All is well. Absolutely --"

  
"Tickety-boo?" asked Crowley. Aziraphale couldn't have looked more nervous. He took a breath, smiled, frowned, and then said --

  
"Quite right." 

  
There were times Crowley liked to tease the angel, but this wasn't one of those times. They had a picnic to go on, after all. 

  
"Alright," Crowley said, and he walked away from the ansaphone -- Aziraphale went to snap the messages away, but Crowley took his attention in the best way he knew how....

  
"Oi. Which scrumptious little treats shall we bring?" he asked.

  
That did it. Aziraphale lowered his hand, smiling, and followed Crowley out of the office, into the plant room, down the hall and into the kitchen. 

  
"Well! ... Ah.... I'm not sure. I've never.... actually been on a picnic, before," Aziraphale confessed.

  
"Neither have I," Crowley said. He hadn't, because he didn't really think of picnics as being much of a solitary activity, and who but Aziraphale would he have cared to do it with? 

  
"Ah! It'll be a first for the both of us, then," said Aziraphale. 

  
Crowley opened the door to the fridge. It was stocked full of things he'd enjoyed at five-star restaurants -- the plates were already made and looked fresh and new as if they'd not been in there for more than a few seconds. Duck liver, lobster, beef tartare, fallow deer. Angel food cake. 

  
"Shouldn't we have a basket?" asked Aziraphale. 

  
"Oh. Right," Crowley said -- he made some interesting hand gestures and a wicker basket started weaving itself on the sleek, marble table. He looked at Aziraphale for approval once it was finished.

  
"That'll do," the angel said, smiling up at Crowley, then looking back into the fridge. 

  
Crowley went to reach in, take the plate of duck liver, when Aziraphale stopped him.

  
"Ah, Crowley? I don't think these meals are entirely... suitable for a picnic," he said. 

  
"What would you suggest?" asked Crowley. 

  
"Oh, I don't know. Something... like grapes!" 

  
"Grapes?"

  
Aziraphale nodded.

  
"Alright. Yeah, I can do grapes," Crowley said. He shut the fridge door and turned, heading for the picnic basket. He snapped and then a cluster of white grapes appeared in the basket. 

  
"Oh--" Aziraphale said, and he raised a hand, bringing his fingers together in a snapping position. "If I may...?" 

  
Crowley made a motion with his head that said 'go ahead'. Aziraphale snapped and the grapes turned from white to black. Hm, that was new. Aziraphale didn't usually miracle anything unless he absolutely had to -- Crowley thought about it. It was Heaven that had prevented him from performing frivolous miracles all those years... and now that Heaven was out of the picture (for a bit, anyway), Aziraphale was free to miracle as he pleased. No rude letters this time. 

  
Crowley looked at the grapes, then at Aziraphale.

  
"What? ... I prefer black," the angel explained.

  
Crowley let that sink in for a moment, then he shrugged. "Go on. Add whatever you like."

  
"Oh... I don't know. Cheese, perhaps? Something firm, surely. Cheshire?" 

  
Aziraphale looked at Crowley expectantly. Crowley only tilted his head toward the basket, waiting. 

  
Aziraphale hesitated for a moment, evidentially uneasy.... he sighed, and then he loosened, and he snapped, and there it was. Cheshire cheese, just beside the grapes. Aziraphale brought his hands together -- "Ah!" he cooed, clearly pleased. 

  
"Anything else?" asked Crowley, smiling. 

  
"Well... I suppose a spot of bread might go nicely with the cheese," said Aziraphale. Crowley didn't have to wait this time -- Aziraphale snapped it right into place. 

  
"Oh! And crackers would just be lovely!" He snapped again, and there were crackers. 

  
"Anything to go with the crackers?" asked Crowley.

  
Aziraphale snapped and there was a stick of salami added to the basket.

  
"What about devilled eggs? You always liked them," Crowley inquired, and he went over from Aziraphale's right side to his left. Aziraphale's blue eyes sparkled and he gasped.

  
"Of course!" he said, sounding nearly euphoric, and then he snapped and added them to the basket. Then he snapped again, and there were cucumbers. Snap, strawberries. Snap, sushi rolls. Snap, a pie. 

  
"Don't forget the wine," Crowley said.

  
"I almost did!" Snap. 

  
Crowley watched as Aziraphale added more and more, and it somehow all fit inside, no matter what he added, and Crowley realised he was using a miracle on top of the miracles to let it all fit -- 

  
Crowley started pacing. A few more snaps later, and he asked --

  
"Are you finished yet?" 

  
Aziraphale turned toward the demon, lips parted and his hand in a snapping position. He stared a moment and then he quickly lowered his hand. 

  
"Oh! Uh... Yes. Yes, I... I think that should do it," he said, and he folded his hands in front of him.

  
"Come on, then," Crowley said, bobbing his head. Aziraphale took the basket by the handle and left the kitchen. 

  
As they made their way through the flat, Aziraphale asked -- 

  
"Where shall we go?" 

  
Crowley pursed his lips and shook his head back and forth. He was suddenly wearing his vest and coat, his chain mesh tassel tie, his chain necklace and his Valentino sunglasses. 

  
"St James? V'seen loads of people having picnics there," Crowley said. 

  
"That would be lovely," Aziraphale responded with enthusiasm. 

  
Crowley pointed and glared at his plants as he passed them by, then he made his way into the office and grabbed the keys to the Bentley off the desk. 

  
The two of them left the flat and made their way downstairs (Crowley lived on the highest floor) -- as they went to exit, the little old lady that lived beneath him said, "Anthony!" 

  
"Hi, Ms. Hughes," Crowley responded as he went to quickly pass by -- but Aziraphale smiled kindly, and he put the picnic basket down to stop and greet her. Crowley tossed his head to the side and stopped, as well. 

  
"Hello, Ms. Hughes! It's a lovely afternoon, wouldn't you say?" Aziraphale asked, and he took her fragile hand in both of his. As he did, she started looking younger and brighter. Her eyes lit up.

  
"Why, yes, it is!" she responded, beaming. "And who are you? Are you a friend of Anthony's?" she asked. Aziraphale looked over at Crowley, softly, and then looked back at Ms. Hughes.

  
"I suppose I am." 

  
"Well. Any friend of Anthony's is a friend of mine. He's a nice man. Such a nice man!" 

  
Crowley pressed his lips tightly together. Why did she always have to say that? He was hoping she wasn't going to say that -- Especially not right in front of Aziraphale. Aziraphale looked over at Crowley, laughed joyfully, and then looked back at Ms. Hughes.

  
"You know, I tell him the same thing. He doesn't always like to hear it, but I think even he knows, deep down, that's he's a very nice, kind person." 

  
Crowley wasn't used to allowing such things to be said about him -- for the past 6000 years he'd resented such a statement, because it meant that he wasn't doing his job right. He fell from Heaven because he couldn't do THAT right, be an angel, and he screwed up at being a demon, too. He never appreciated the reminder. But things were different, now. It didn't really matter that he'd screwed up at being a demon, or an angel. Who would want to be either, anyway? They were all bastards. And he didn't work for Hell anymore -- he didn't have to be good at being a demon. 

  
He was on Aziraphale's side. And with Aziraphale, he was free to be himself. So what if Ms. Hughes and Aziraphale thought he was nice? Maybe he was. A least a little bit. 

  
"Yes, yes, alright," Crowley responded, and he turned around and kept walking. Even if he would allow it to be said, it was still embarrassing. 

  
"Well, it was very lovely meeting you, Ms. Hughes! Have a wonderful day!" Aziraphale chirped, and then he picked up the basket and quickly followed after Crowley. 

  
"You too!" she called back.

  
When they made it out of the flat, "What a sweet person," Aziraphale said, beaming. "I say, she's rather fond of you! ... Can't say I blame her." 

  
Crowley looked over at Aziraphale -- did he just admit to being fond of him? Not that Crowley didn't realise he was... he always knew Aziraphale liked him, but having him admit it was something else. 

  
Crowley said nothing, looking both ways before crossing the street. The Bentley sparkled under the sunlight -- it was a warm and pleasant day, good for a picnic. They both got in the car, Aziraphale putting the picnic basket in the back seat as Crowley put the keys in the ignition. The Bentley rumbled and purred and Queen filled the car -- 

_I can dim the lights and sing you songs full of sad things_   
_We can do the tango just for two_   
_I can serenade and gently play on your heart strings_   
_Be your Valentino just for you_

Crowley pulled out of the parking space and sped off down the street. Aziraphale instantly cried out -- both hands gripping the seat tightly. 

  
"Crowley!" 

  
"What?" 

  
"Why must you insist on going 90 miles per hour on crowded streets!" the angel shrieked.

  
"Ooh, we'll be fine, angel! Think about it, have I ever hit anything?" Crowley asked, raising his brows in Aziraphale's direction. 

  
"Yes! Yes, you have!" 

  
Crowley's brows creased in confusion.

  
"No, I haven't. What are you going on about?" 

  
"You mean you don't remember? That poor girl? You hit her on our way through Tadfield!" 

  
"Nooo, no, that doesn't count, I didn't hit her, she hit me. If I'd hit her, she'd have been run over -- she went over the top."

  
"That's not the point! A person was injured!" 

  
"Well... s'for the best, anyway," Crowley said.

  
"For the --! My dear fellow, are you implying that you ENJOY harming people with your car!" 

  
"I'm not implying anything. If she hadn't hit me, you wouldn't have found the book -- we'd have been long gone by now. You, me... the world. And that includes the book girl. So," Crowley gave Aziraphale a look and then shrugged. 

  
Aziraphale was quiet for a moment. He looked at Crowley, looked at the road, looked back at Crowley. He shifted in his seat. 

  
"I suppose that's true..." he said very quietly. "But even so," he raised his voice, "I would rather we didn't get discorporated after everything that happened. It would be terribly inconvenient if we were to be without bodies at a time like this. It's unlikely that Heaven, or Hell, would assign us with new ones."

  
"We won't discorporate. Not on my watch," Crowley said. 

  
"Very well. If you won't slow down, then I'll just have to shut my eyes until we get there." And then Aziraphale shut his eyes tightly. Crowley looked over at him. 

  
"Oh, c'mon," he said. He removed a hand from the wheel and waved it in front of Aziraphale's face. "Don't do that." 

  
Aziraphale's eyes were still shut tight. Crowley watched him, and then he sighed and slowed down to 50 miles per hour. Aziraphale opened one eye and then the other, and he smiled warmly, looking over at Crowley and the speedometer. 

  
"Thank you," Aziraphale said, and he let out a sigh of relief -- releasing his grip on the seat and instead clasping his hands together on his lap. He really could be a bastard when he wanted to be. 

_Dining at the Ritz, we'll meet at nine precisely_   
_(One two three four five six seven eight nine o' clock)_   
_I will pay the bill, you taste the wine_   
_Driving back in style, in my saloon will do quite nicely_   
_Just take me back to yours that will be fine (come on and get it)_

"Dining at the Ritz! Why...! Did you hear that? That's what we do!" Aziraphale said, as if he were astonished. Crowley thought the angel was a bit stupid, but that was nothing new. He was more focused on how SLOWLY he was driving. It was torture -- 

_Ooh love, (there he goes again just like a good old-fashioned lover boy)_   
_Ooh loverboy_   
_What're you doin' tonight, hey boy_   
_Everything's all right_   
_Just hold on tight_   
_That's because I'm a good old-fashioned fashioned lover boy_

Crowley was just glad that Aziraphale missed the _'come on and sit on my hot-seat of love'_ part. 


	2. Save Me

Finally, once near enough to St James Park, a parking space opened up, thanks to a demonic miracle or two, and Crowley took it. They both got out of the car, Aziraphale taking the picnic basket out from the back seat, and then walked their way to the park. 

  
"It really is such a glorious day, don't you think? Perfect for a picnic! Now. Where shall we settle?" asked Aziraphale as they walked over onto the grass. Crowley turned this way and that.

  
"There, the tree. Seems as good a spot as any," Crowley said, and then he continued walking, with Aziraphale just beside him. Once they made it to the spot, Aziraphale placed the picnic basket down. Crowley sat in the grass on the left side of it, opened it up and took out the bottle of wine. He looked inside and saw that Aziraphale had made a couple of wine glasses, too. He took them out, opened the bottle of wine, and just as he went to pour, he stopped. He looked up. Aziraphale was still standing there. 

  
"You.... going to sit, or?" Crowley asked.

  
"I'm afraid I can't." 

  
".....Why?"

  
"The grass would destroy my clothes completely!" 

  
"You're not going to stand this whole time, are you?"

  
"Well... no," Aziraphale started. Then he looked around. He spotted one couple having a picnic, and they were sitting on a blanket. 

  
"Of course!" the angel cried. He shook his hands, suddenly looking very excited as he stood before Crowley. 

  
"What's this? What are you doing?" asked the demon, looking up at Aziraphale in irritation. The angel smiled stupidly, his eyes widened and twinkled and he made odd little sounds and hand gestures like some idiot -- then realisation dawned on Crowley. 

  
"Angel, no. No. Don't you do it," he demanded, looking at Aziraphale sternly. It was of no use --

  
"Hwaaah!" 

  
"Oh, no. No. Please -- please stop, this is embarrassing -- I'm actually embarrassed for you. Hwaah, what's hwaah? What's that supposed to be??" 

  
"That's the audience!" 

  
"The audi--! .... You're ridiculous. You know you're ridiculous? That's -- no! That wouldn't be the audience at all! The audience -- the audience would be, would be .... booing an', and... throwing vegetables, and --" 

  
Aziraphale ignored Crowley, continued hwaahing, and started pulling a tartan picnic blanket out from his sleeve. It, somehow, managed to get stuck, and Aziraphale kept pulling and pulling with difficulty until it finally came free and fell to the grass. He was incredibly ungraceful for a being that was supposed to be filled to the brim with it. Crowley watched in horror. 

  
"You used proper magic by willing a blanket into existence, only to put it up your sleeve and make a fool of yourself? Why didn't you just will it into the basket, save yourself the humiliation??" 

  
"Oh, come now, I wouldn't say it was humiliating! Look! Those people seemed to like it!" Aziraphale beamed, waving cheerfully at a couple of young ladies who were whispering to each other, pointing and laughing. 

  
"Hello!" Aziraphale called out. "Thank you!" 

  
Crowley put the wine and glasses back in the basket, moved it out of the way, took the picnic blanket and spread it out over the grass. 

  
"Aziraphale, they're not -- oh, for whatever's sake, just sit down, would you?" he said, putting the picnic basket in the middle and then sitting back down. The angel joined him, sitting on his knees, running his hands down his coat and vest then fixing his bowtie.

  
"Ah! Much better!" he exclaimed. 

  
Crowley took the wine and the glasses back out of the basket while Aziraphale went and began to lay out the rest of the food. Along the way, more and more foods started appearing. There were then crumpets and tea and biscuits and clearly all that was laid out on the blanket could never have fit in the basket but the humans weren't likely to confront them, and if they did, they could work it out, come up with something. 

  
"What about the pig on a spit?" asked Crowley. 

  
"You know, I believe I --!" Aziraphale stopped talking when he caught the look on Crowley's face. "Um. Right." It was quiet for a few seconds. "Shall we?"

  
Crowley poured one glass, handed it to Aziraphale (who took it gratefully, thanking him), then poured another. He looked at the wine through the glass -- it was red. Crowley was curious about how it would taste, considering Aziraphale had made it from scratch. He brought the glass to his lips and took a sip -- he was struck by so many different delicious flavours, some very strong, some rather subtle -- it was unlike anything he'd ever tasted. It was Earthy, yet other-wordly. Spicy, yet sweet. It went down smooth and warm, yet turned cool as soon as it hit his stomach. And, damn, was it strong. 

  
"How is it?" Aziraphale asked, catching Crowley's attention. He looked over at the angel, who was looking at him out of the corner of his eye as he took a sip of his own. 

  
"Not bad... Not bad at all, actually," Crowley responded, taking another sip. Aziraphale swallowed, smiled, and wiggled where he sat. 

  
"I'm so very pleased you like it," he said and then he took the cluster of grapes and began popping them into his mouth, one by one.

  
"Mmm! You must try these grapes! They are exquisite!" 

  
"Are they? Alright, then," Crowley responded, and he opened his mouth, because his hands were occupied -- one with the glass of wine, and the other was wrapped around the neck of the bottle. Aziraphale hesitated, made a noise of surprise, then he plucked a grape from the stem, leaned over and went to drop it into Crowley's mouth....

  
"Would you look at that!" some bloke called out as he passed by. "You two are bloody adorable!" 

  
Aziraphale froze, while Crowley lowered his head, brows creasing and jaw going slack. 

  
"Oh! Well...! As are you, dear boy!" Aziraphale called out, smiling, once he recovered from the initial shock. Crowley looked from the human, to Aziraphale, and back to the human. 

  
"Did you hear that, Crowley? He thinks we're adorable!" 

  
"Mm. Not sure if he meant that as a compliment, angel," Crowley said, shifting his jaw from side to side. 

  
"He must have! He adores us! That couldn't possibly be an insult, could it?" Aziraphale asked, and he absent-mindedly ate the grape he'd almost given Crowley.

  
"Ooh, that's..." Crowley started, and he wondered if he should keep going, part of him didn't want to, another part did, if only to see what the angel thought about the whole thing, "not... what... he meant."

  
"It isn't?" Aziraphale asked, looking confused. He paused, looking back at the human, looking at the food in front of him as he thought, then over at Crowley "... What did he mean?" 

  
"He meant... we're adorable. The two of us," Crowley said, looking at Aziraphale for a moment before looking away. "Together."

"The two of us together?" 

"Yeah. He thought we were... you know. Together-together," Crowley took a sip of wine, playing it cool -- anyone who saw him would think he was hardly interested in the conversation, that he was focused on something in the distance -- but truthfully, all of his attention was on Aziraphale. He waited for a sound, watching him with his peripheral vision. He braced himself -- 

  
"Together-together?" Aziraphale repeated, and then he let out a breath of air that sounded like a laugh. Crowley immediately regretted explaining it. He didn't want to know what Aziraphale thought -- he was laughing, why was he laughing? What if he was repulsed, thought it was ridiculous? This was better left unspoken -- 

  
"Well, I..." Aziraphale went on, but Crowley quickly interrupted him. 

  
"Mm, ought to get eating, yes? You've so many options," Crowley said, gesturing at the foods on the blanket with the bottle. Using food to distract the angel never failed.

  
"That we do," said Aziraphale, turning his attention back to the picnic. "And everything looks positively scrummy!" 

  
Crowley looked at Aziraphale, looked at the food, then did a double-take. He jerked his head back and gave Aziraphale a look. 

  
"Scrummy?" he asked, brows lowered almost angrily below his sunglasses. 

  
"Mm? Yes, very," Aziraphale replied, only half-listening. Crowley said nothing, only stared at Aziraphale. Shocked. Horrified. Aziraphale reached over, took a strawberry, and then looked over at Crowley. 

  
"Oh, you must have heard the word before," the angel went on. "You know... Scrummy! It's a combination of the words SCRUMPTIOUS and YUMMY! It's a rather fun word, if I do say so myself. And this is the perfect time to use it!" 

  
"There's no perfect time to use that word. There will never be a perfect time to use that word," Crowley replied. What kind of a word was that, scrummy? 

  
Just then, a duck started waddling over to the picnic blanket. Aziraphale's brows raised and he smiled. He tore off a piece of bread -- 

  
"Angel, wait--" 

\-- and threw it toward the duck. 

  
"Ooh, now you've done it!" Crowley groaned, irritated. The duck ate the bread and then came closer and closer. Crowley snarled at it and growled in his throat. 

  
"Don't be such an attercop!" Aziraphale said and he threw another piece of bread. "We have more than enough, and clearly she's hungry." 

  
"I don't care about the food, you idiot!" Crowley rasped. The duck came closer and stole a cracker. It had another cracker, another, and another, making a mess, getting crumbs everywhere. It quacked and quacked, flapped it's wings, then shit, and continued eating.

  
"Oh, that's wonderful, that's just lovely -- see, this is what I'm talking about! See what you've done?" he asked, turning toward Aziraphale before turning back toward the duck. "Go away! Shoo!" 

  
The duck bit his shoe, which wasn't actually a shoe, and Crowley cried out. 

  
"Oi! Hey! Hiiisssssss!" Crowley hissed, shaking his foot. The duck bit again, and again. It bit his leg, bit his hand. Crowley panicked, went to get up, spilled his glass, dropped the bottle. "Aah! No! No! Piss off!" 

  
More ducks started heading over -- 

  
"No! Shit! No, no! Now they're all coming, a whole bloody family!" 

  
There were ducks everywhere -- they all had decided to attack Crowley, thinking he was a threat. Biting his legs and feet and his hair. One even pulled his Valentinos off his face -- that was it. Nobody touched his glasses and got away with it. He had to think -- ducks. They had ears. He was going to use that to his advantage...

  
Crowley took in a long, deep breath and then screeched, so loud and inhuman sounding that all the ducks quacked in response and quickly flew off. 

  
Crowley caught his breath through clenched teeth. His hair was a mess, his clothes were torn, he had feathers stuck to him. 

  
"S'what I thought!" he shouted and then he turned to look at Aziraphale, who was standing there, lips parted and eyes wide. He looked no more than unsettled and was still holding the wine and strawberry.

  
"Thanks for the help! Couldn't've done it without you!" Crowley spat, scrunching his face up. He looked around in the grass and found his glasses. He put them back on, looked around, and noticed that most of the humans in the area were watching him. 

  
"Move along, people, there's nothing to see here!" Crowley shouted. Only when they listened did he come closer to Aziraphale. 

  
"I'm leaving. We're leaving. Let's go," Crowley said, and he put his fingers to his temple, made sure nobody was looking, snapped, stopped time, and used a miracle to put all the food (that was untouched by ducks), and the blanket into the basket. Aziraphale frowned when the strawberry left his hand. 

  
"But--" he started, but Crowley interrupted him.

  
"We're going to find a place, a nice QUIET place, far from here, where there's no ducks, and no people -- where it's just the two of us and a glorious blasted sunset!"

  
Crowley grabbed the picnic basket, snapped to resume time, and then started making his way off the grass. Aziraphale was still for a moment before he quickly caught up. 

  
Once they made it back into the Bentley, Crowley put the picnic basket back in the back seat, then put the keys in the ignition -- SAVE ME by Queen started to play. 

_Save me save me save me_   
_I can't face this life alone_   
_Save me save me save me_   
_I'm naked and I'm far from home_

Crowley took his phone out of his coat pocket, pulled up Google Maps. Shrunk the screen -- found a place called Crawley, too many memories there -- kept looking. Handcross? No. Blegh. Kept looking. Devil's Dyke? That might be interesting. Crowley looked up a few pictures -- yup. That was it, that's where they were going. He put the phone back in his pocket, pulled out of the street and sped off with a yelping angel. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ducks, am i right ?


	3. Fat Bottomed Girls

"Crowley? ... Ah! Oh! Watch out! ... Um. Where exactly ... Good Heavens! ... are, uh.... are we going?" asked Aziraphale, eyes wide -- one hand pressed flat against the roof of the Bentley and the other gripping the seat as they made their way out of London. 

  
"I told you," Crowley said as he zoomed between two cars. 

  
"Yes, well, 'somewhere without people or ducks' is not exactly specific. Would you care to elaborate?"

  
Crowley took his iphone out of his pocket and handed it over to Aziraphale. Aziraphale's brows creased and he took it in his hand. All Aziraphale saw was his reflection in the black, shiny screen. He looked over at Crowley, then back at the phone.

  
"What am I supposed to do with this contraption?" 

  
"Turn it on," Crowley replied. Aziraphale turned the phone, clearly unsure of what to do. 

  
"How am I--"

  
Crowley looked over. 

  
"Press the button. No, not that one, the one on the-- no. Yes, that one, there it is. Swipe. No, use your finger, on the screen. Yes. No, the other way. NO. Not -- YES. That."

"Ah! It acknowledged my touch?" Aziraphale asked. 

  
"Yes, Aziraphale, it acknowledges touch, it's a touch screen. I got you an eReader, you should know --" he looked over at Aziraphale, who glanced at him out of the corner of his eye only very briefly. 

  
".... You've never used it, have you?" asked Crowley. 

"I... well... I might not have," Aziraphale responded, sheepishly. 

  
"Did you even take it out of the box?"

Aziraphale was quiet, shifting in his seat, avoiding Crowley's gaze. 

  
"You didn't, did you?" asked Crowley.

  
"..... It's... possible that I didn't," Aziraphale said very softly, hardly audible. Crowley tossed his head to the side, looking back at the road, feeling somewhat insulted. He'd gotten the angel that gift for Christmas, and he'd said he'd loved it, that he'd cherish it always and--

  
"You said you were going to use it straight away," Crowley frowned.

  
"I was planning to--"

  
"Noooo, you weren't," Crowley sighed.

"Alright, maybe I wasn't..."

"I thought you liked it?"

  
"I, it's not that I didn't... don't... LIKE it. It's just that... well, I would prefer to read an ACTUAL book. Oh, don't look so glum. I appreciated the thought. After all, it IS the thought that counts...... And besides, I haven't seen you wearing the vest I gifted you with." 

  
"That's different," Crowley said.

  
"How so?"

  
"It was tartan, for starters." 

"Well, you are always talking about style and I thought--"

  
Crowley started shaking his head back and forth before Aziraphale could even finish.

"There's nothing stylish about tartan." 

  
"I would have to respectfully disagree," Aziraphale responded, and he reached up to fix his bowtie, realising the phone was still in hand. 

  
"Oh! It's blackened," he said, looking at it disappointedly.

  
"Press the button again," Crowley repeated. "Swipe. Yup. Alright, press the 4. Zero. Zero again. Four. There you have it." 

  
"4004... That was the year we came to Earth."

  
"Mm, it was."

  
"It was also the year we..." Aziraphale started, but Crowley finished the sentence for him.

"The year we met. Yuh." He didn't turn to look at Aziraphale, didn't even glance at him out of the corner of his eye, but he didn't need to. After so many years of talking in public, while trying to look like they weren't talking in public, Crowley had grown quite used to using his peripheral vision. That, and well, he was a supernatural being, after all, he didn't actually HAVE to look at Aziraphale to know what he was doing. The angel was looking at him, softly, with a twinkle in his eye -- only when Aziraphale looked away, back down at the phone, did Crowley look over. 

  
With the phone unlocked, the images of Devil's Dyke Crowley had been looking at appeared on the screen. Lush, green hills as far as the eye could see. A big, open sky.

"Is this where we're headed?"

"Yup."

Aziraphale's eyes lit up and he smiled.

  
"Well?" asked the demon. 

  
Aziraphale looked over at Crowley, then back at the images.

  
"Oh, my dear, it's marvellous! A perfect spot for a picnic!" Aziraphale exclaimed, awkwardly using his finger to scroll. 

  
"S'what I thought." 

Accidentally, Aziraphale blew up the screen, and the words 'Devil's Dyke' stood out more clearly.

  
"Devil's -- of course," Aziraphale said, pressing his lips together and giving Crowley a look. 

  
"What? You said it yourself, it's the perfect spot for a picnic."

"Well... I suppose it is. I do imagine the sunset will be, ah.... quite glorious, as you put it," the angel responded, handing the phone back to Crowley. Crowley took it, used a demonic miracle to fold it in half and flatten it out (wouldn't do to have his pocket sticking out) and put it back in his coat pocket. Aziraphale's forehead wrinkled as he watched, then he turned to look out the window, gasping as Crowley just missed a pedestrian, and accidentally gripping Crowley's thigh. 

  
"Nggk!" Crowley ngked, and Aziraphale shrieked, removing his hand as if he'd been scalded, while Crowley swerved, quickly straightened the car out with a screech, his serpent eyes wide, his breath shallow, jeans tightening -- he whipped his head over at Aziraphale, glasses askew. 

  
"I-- uh, well then!" Aziraphale blurted out. "Yes! Um! Shall-we-turn-the-music-up?" He quickly reached over to turn the dial on the blaupunkt which blasted -- 

_Oh, but I still get my pleasure_   
_Still got my greatest treasure_   
_Heap big woman, you done made a big man --_

"Oh, gracious!" Aziraphale cried, cheeks pink and eyes wide. 

"Ygg!" Crowley ygged, quickly shutting it off. 

  
All was quiet for a moment. Crowley caught his breath, willed away his reactions. He fixed his glasses, tensed his jaw, put both hands on the wheel and looked ahead in horror. Focusing on the road more than ever. He was suddenly driving quite slowly. 

  
Neither of them said a word for what felt like an eternity as they recovered and tried to act like nothing had happened. Crowley wanted to discorporate. It was just him and Aziraphale in the silence of the car, listening to one another's breathing. Having the angel's manicured hands on him, his upper thigh, so close to his bits -- such a thrill. So long he'd imagined Aziraphale touching him, anywhere really. Oh, how he wanted it -- Was it obvious? He hoped it wasn't obvious. 

  
"Ah... shall we.... listen to your bebop -- Ah, forgive me. Your.... not-bebop, then?" Aziraphale asked, sounding breathless and unsure. 

  
Oh, please no. Not The Velvet Underground. Not Pale Blue Eyes. That was a very private song -- 

  
"Believe me, you wouldn't like it. S'not your scene," Crowley said, shaking his head back and forth and scrunching his face up. 

  
"Right," Aziraphale breathed out with a sort of laugh. "Though it is, ah... rather quiet, isn't it? I'm sure it isn't SO bad." 

  
The angel reached over and took out the CD. Crowley looked over, OH SATAN, and then he wiggled his head, "Mmyih," because he couldn't seem to say NO. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad... it was just one song on the CD, Aziraphale wouldn't know any better...... in fact, he could tell the angel it was his least favourite song of all if he had to. And it WAS intolerably quiet. 

  
Aziraphale went to put the CD in, had difficulty -- 

  
"It's, no, it's -- eject it, the other CD. No -- aagh, for somebody's sake--" Crowley reached over, ejected the CD (which used to be Mozart) and took Velvet Underground from Aziraphale, popped it in. 

_Mama, just killed a man_

Oh. Yeah. It'd been in the car for a fortnight. 

_Put a gun against his head_   
_Pulled my trigger, now he's dead_   
_Mama, life had just begun_   
_But now I've gone and thrown it all away_

"This isn't so bad. It sounds quite a lot like your other music," Aziraphale said, smiling anxiously, looking at Crowley for only a second before looking back at the blaupunkt. 

  
Crowley wondered if he should correct the angel... Should he tell him this wasn't The Velvet Underground? Should he tell Aziraphale that he didn't listen to Queen by choice? As he tried to decide, he drove faster and faster. Old habit. 

  
"So. How much further is it?" Aziraphale asked. 

  
"With a modern car, it'd take a couple hours, but with this? Shouldn't take more than 45 minutes," Crowley responded. 

  
"Ah.... are you sure it's the car and not... well. Your driving?" 

"Eeh, I mean... might have something to do with it." 

  
And with that, Crowley drove even faster, while Aziraphale kept his hands clasped tightly together on his lap. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeeg. that was a thing


End file.
